


Come Stop Your Crying, It'll Be Alright.

by Wulver



Category: The Witcher (TV)
Genre: Ciri is worried tho, Cursed Jaskier | Dandelion, Geralt feels dammit, Good Friend Yennefer z Vengerbergu | Yennefer of Vengerberg, Hurt Jaskier | Dandelion, Jaskier | Dandelion & Yennefer z Vengerbergu | Yennefer of Vengerberg Friendship, Jaskier | Dandelion Has a Past, M/M, Possessive Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Protective Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Soft Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-09
Updated: 2020-12-17
Packaged: 2021-02-27 20:18:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,599
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22811497
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wulver/pseuds/Wulver
Summary: Jaskier gets cursed by a mage after pissing them off. Suprise, surprise. And is forced to the age of where his worst memories reside. Though he holds no memories of his former self, he seems to trust Geralt. And Geralt comes to understand himself and his bard more.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Comments: 26
Kudos: 399





	1. Chapter 1

"What the fuck did you do now?" Geralt roared, grip tightening on his sword.

Jaskier watched him glare angrily from the mage's grip, an uneasy smile curling at his lips. The mage was oddly calm and watched with mild curiosity between the two.

"It was an accident!" He cried back, tense. "I only slept with this- very generous, and benevolent, gentleman's sweet daughter! Who, might I add, was untouched. Though at the time I hadn't a clue. Otherwise, I swear on my lute, I swear, good sir, that I wouldn't even have thought of going about her!"

"Words will get you nowhere, bard." The mage simply hummed unaffected, his green eyes flicking to a book floating idly beside them.

"I'm sure we can figure-" Jaskier started.

"Do not come any closer, Witcher." The mage stated, his grip tightening around Jaskier's neck. He sensed Geralt as he tried to approach them. Geralt's eyebrows drew closer together in annoyance and a growl reverberated through the forest. 

But the mage didn’t seem concerned. "I've lived many years, young poet. And I've encountered many evils. And you are far from the worst I've seen. Though I have a sense that you rarely ever learn. You have crossed the wrong wizard today I'm afraid... I shall give you a punishment I see fit for one who doesn't learn. And not with death. So worry less, Witcher." The pages of the book skimmed through with the help of the mage's magic until they stopped close to the end of the book 

Geralt's jaw locked as he looked on with anger. Jaskier could tell Geralt did not worry less. He just seemed angrier. But the mage paid him little mind and continued on with his plan unbothered. The mage read over the page quickly. Jaskier gulped in fear, he was genuinely scared. 

Instead of dwelling on the blatant problem, and going into a panic, Jaskier moved his eyes to set on Geralt's heated glare. Geralt's eyes were fixed on his in return. He was trying to say something without words. Something he did often. 

Geralt was lucky that Jaskier was a feelings’ whore. Otherwise he wouldn’t have a single clue to what Geralt was doing. He looked constipated every time. Dear Gods, Geralt was bad at emotions. It made Jaskier shake his head almost fondly. 

Although Geralt wasn't speaking, he was trying to comfort him. In his own way. It made his heart swell and he forgot about his predicament for the briefest of moments. And maybe he wasn't going to die, but that didn't mean it couldn't be something worse.

The mage gave a wicked smile, the only emotion he'd shown since he lured them in here. 

"Alright I'm set."

"Don't you fucking dar-" Geralt started, finally taking a chance and charging at them. But the mage had probably seen that coming and he backed quickly away from Jaskier just as he chanted the spell.

Thick clouds of white enveloped Jaskier, his vision cloudy as if he were drunk. Pain flared from the center of his chest and outwards through his bones. They moved under his skin, cracking and reshaping theirselves. A scream tore it's way through his body at the amount of pain he was experiencing. Death would hurt less.

His head burned and swam with nausea, making him sway on his feet. The world spun violently and he didn't even feel himself crash to the ground.

He was only aware he fell because he saw the blue sky for a second before another headache came about and he had to squeeze his eyes closed again. Jaskier trembled as the world faded in and out, and he saw a flicker of burning gold eyes before finally passing out.

-

Honestly? He wasn't surprised Jaskier's dick got him into some more undesirable trouble. Geralt just really wished it wasn't with a mage. They were spiteful people who enjoyed chaos, he'd learned. And a bard was an easy target to claim. Especially one whose name was Jaskier. 

Geralt huffed. He was more worried than he'd like to admit. This mage; Buckley, Binky, Bemus, whatever the hell the fucking thing's name was- he had no right to have his hands all over Jaskier like that.

Jaskier had this infuriating knack to attract troubles to him, whether it was serious danger or not. And usually Geralt could save him without any trouble, begrudgingly, of course. So he'd never been worried about losing his - the bard to something he can easily fend off. But of course the one time he left the idiot behind for a hunt Jaskier thought with his dick almost instantly. 

And now this mage had a leverage that Geralt couldn’t do anything about, except helplessly grip his sword and stare at the pair furiously. And everytime he took a chance to move closer, the fucking mage caught him immediately and threatened Jaskier again, leaving Geralt to make empty threats. All three of them knew it too.

"Do not come any closer, Witcher." The mage barked at him. He didn't bother looking up. His grip did however tighten around Jaskier's neck. 

Geralt felt himself growl. The mage didn't even blink."I've lived many years, young poet. And I've encountered many evils. And you are far from the worst I've seen. Though I have a sense that you rarely ever learn. You have crossed the wrong wizard today I'm afraid... I shall give you a punishment I see fit for one who doesn't learn. And not with death. So worry less, Witcher." 

That did not lessen his qualms. He felt himself getting angrier as the book came to a stop on an open page. The mage started to chant an old language from the book. Dark magic Geralt deduced. He set his jaw tighter as his worries boiled over for the bard. His stomach twisted in a hollow way, and it was like his voice was getting caught in his throat, like it was stuck.

And usually he didn’t talk, but he felt the need to scream out for Jaskier, to reassure him or something because he looked scared. Geralt wondered for a second if his eyes conveyed the words he couldn’t say.

Both the mage and Jaskier's hair started to whip about as if it were windy from the waves of magic. And he finally took the chance to charge. But he was too late. 

As if everything were in slow motion; he watched Jaskier crumble to the ground like a ragdoll in obvious agony, withering and screaming. And he heard bones break and move under Jaskier's skin without any troubles, like they were pieces of stale bread or something. Human bones didn't do that- weren't supposed to do that. It made Geralt's heart drop in fear.

What did this bastard do? 

And for maybe the first time since Kaer Morhen Gearlt felt petrified of something that wasn't Vesemir.

Losing something that Witchers weren't allowed to have for this exact reason. Something that made them weak, slow. Something that got Witchers killed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Beta Reader: dragon_rider


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes. Oh my god. I finally finished another chapter. When I tell you this has been in my drafts since last March. It's been in my drafts since last March.

Geralt had suddenly appeared in her and Ciri's shared room, his body stiff and eyes cold. Yennefer had seen Geralt look like this plenty. Usually when Jaskier's affections wandered away from him. She narrowed her eyes. Where ever was the bard at? 

"Geralt?" Ciri murmured. She could sense something was deeply wrong as well.

"Yennefer. I need help." Geralt growled out.

She stepped up wordlessly from where she sat with Ciri on the floor, and followed Geralt down the hall to where the other room they rented resided. The basic potion making they were practicing would have to wait until a later date then. He was on edge, she noted. Something must be wrong with the bard. She couldn't fathom what though. Jaskier was there nearly an hour ago. Though in retrospect that was enough time for a character such as Jaskier to get himself into some unearthly trouble. 

They entered the room, Ciri hot on their trail. Yennefer grimaced at the amount of magic stirring in the little room. She looked to the bed.

A younger boy rested there. He couldn't be older than seven. He was skinny, awfully skinny, like he hadn't eaten in weeks. But his lack of weight wasn't even the worst part about this kid. He was covered from head to toe in dark, splotchy bruises. The entirety of his upper torso as well as his arms and legs were covered in the crude bruises.

"Geralt-?" He was silent. She wanted to ask, What the fuck Geralt? Who is this kid? Why would you bring a kid here? They weren't a charity service for Gods’ sake. 

But with the lack of the bard and the presence of a still Witcher, she had her answer.

So these bruises aren't from being beaten half to death by the kid's parents. And this kid wasn't a random boy Geralt plucked off the street. This was Jaskier laying there.

And those bruises, they would have to be from the spell. The transformation. Someone did this to hurt him. And they succeeded. 

"Shit." She finished.

"Is that Jaskier?" Ciri asked, timid. 

"Yes." Geralt gruffed.

"What happened? Is he okay?"

It was obvious Geralt was not in the mood to talk about it. With the way his stare hadn't left the child- Jaskier the entire time they'd been in this room.

"He's okay." Yennefer answered for Geralt.

"Can you fix this, Yennefer?" He asked instead. 

Could she? In all honesty she couldn't even pinpoint the type of spell being used here. It was no doubt dark magic, if the heavy air was anything to go by. She'd probably have to get her hands on whatever was used to cast the spell, which wasn't impossible. But that didn't make it any easier. And even then dark magic is not something she really wanted to drabble in. 

Regardless...

"Yes." was her answer. "Ciri, dear, can you go clean up the other room please?"

She nodded and left, reluctance in her eyes. 

"Okay" Yennefer moved past Geralt and to the side of the bed where Jaskier lay. "What happened?"

"Some low life wizard got him. Said something about fucking his daughter."

"Seems a little extreme." Well this type of magic was a little more than extreme. 

She murmured to herself checking to see if any of the bones in Jaskier's tiny body were broken. None were. "This is dark magic, though I'm sure you can tell. So I'm sure you know I'm gonna need that book."

Geralt grunted as a yes.

"I'll get something for the bruises."

-

Jaskier slept for a day before stirring. Geralt wasn't there. He was out, thankfully. Jaskier woke terrified and screaming, scared out of his mind. 

"What on Earth?" She cursed as she went to sit by the bed. She tried to comfort him and after five minutes, she was just about ready to forcefully put him back to a sleep. 

But then he stopped. 

Jaskier sat up, rigid, tears in his eyes. And he looked over at her after his screaming ceased. He just stared at her with wide eyes.

"Jaskier?" Silence. She tried again. "Jaskier? You have to calm down, you're going to aggravate your wounds."

He didn't say anything. He just looked around, disoriented. But his face stayed void of emotion. 

"How are you feeling?" Nothing. Great. "Do you know where you are?"

The kid looked towards her again. Blue eyes big, and shook his head, little hands gripping the sheet of the bed firmly. 

She thought for a second.

"Do you know who I am?" He shook his head no again. "Do you know who you are?"

"Julian Alfred Pankratz." He said instantly. "Papa always says to use your full name when greeting a lady." He murmured.

Yenn smiled at that. So his vocal cords weren't damaged and he could speak.

"Well, it's nice to meet you, Julian. My name is Yennefer."

"Where am I?" He whispered, his eyes were filled to the brim in tears.

"We are at my house." She said simply. 

"My Papa has a lot of coin, I'm sure he'd pay you. Can you please take me back home."

This was quite an unexpected development, Yennefer noted. Jaskier seemed to be suffering from amnesia. The spell had not only transformed his body but his mind as well. And there wasn't much she could do for this, since you couldn't really bring back memories that technically didn't exist. Geralt was not going to be fond of this at all.

"Yes, of course, we can bring you back home. But we didn't kidnap you, dear. Don't fret. I was fixing you up. How are you feeling?"

All at once, Jaskier seemed to remember how beaten his body was and started to cry again. He looked down as his hands tightened around the sheets.

"It hurts." 

"Here drink this, it will make the hurt feel better." Jaskier drank it without complaint, no even a scowl. It more than surprised Yenn since she normally couldn't get Jaskier to drink anything without some sort of retort. "Drink this water too."

Ciri walked in at that moment with more warm water. Yennefer looked over at her. She had to give her some credit, she had hardly bothered her or Geralt during this last day. Although Yenn knew she was more than a little concerned for Jaskier, Ciri held her tongue and did as she was asked.

"How is he?" Citi asked, watching patiently from the doorway.

"He's going to be okay. Just a little confused. You can come in." Yenn tossed Ciri a smile, which was half returned. "Geralt should be back soon. Do you think you could watch him when that happens? He's not going to be happy."

Ciri nodded and sat next to her beside the bed, and watched Jaskier tentatively, who was still looking around.

"Is he gonna be angry at me?" Jaskier whispered.

"No, not at you." Yennefer patted his head in comfort and wiped the sweat from his forehead with the new cloth Ciri brought which Jaskier didn't seem to mind.

"At you?" Jaskier paused before he looked a little more fearful. "Please tell him I'm sorry. It's not your fault it's mine! If he's gonna hit you tell him to hit me instead. I'm sorry!"

Yennefer and Citi exchanged a baffled look.

"Geralt is a very nice man, he won't hit anyone." She assured him. Jaskier nodded his head but didn't seem to believe Yen.

She checked over Jaskier's wounds. They looked a lot better but she knew they were far from healed. The ugly purple color faded just slightly. She dressed them up again, and Jaskier hardly made any noise even though she could feel him flinch aggressively every time she touched him. 

Afterwards, the day went on smoother. Geralt was still out doing who knew what, while Ciri and Yennefer catered to Jaskier. He was very unsure of this 'Geralt' person, and although they both tried to assure him on multiple occasions he was a good man, Jaskier kept his doubts but otherwise was very quiet. He did everything they asked without any questions. This child was very different from the Jaskier she knew. But it was going well so who was she to complain. 

All she knew was that they needed to find the book fast. Because although this tiny Jaskier was cute and listened a lot better than the older much taller one, she did not want their little team to fall apart. And it would fall very fast without the bard

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Beta Reader: dragon_rider


End file.
